


Rubber Forehead Alien Legal Drama

by NormalAnomaly



Category: Glowfic and Related Works
Genre: Gen, Glowfic and Related Works - Freeform, Lawyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 19:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20013790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NormalAnomaly/pseuds/NormalAnomaly
Summary: A slice-of-life courtroom drama in Vanda Nosseo. Set in the world of lintamande's Silmaril.





	Rubber Forehead Alien Legal Drama

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Silmaril](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/502339) by lintamande. 



The aliens landed when Karalandra was fourteen. 

For aliens, they weren't nearly as incomprehensible as one would expect. Sure, some members of their "intergalactic consortium" were methane-breathers or octopi or immaterial quasi-deities with strange priorities. But the ones who landed on what was apparently one of many twenty-first century Earths were humanoid, and pretty, and interested in sharing their technology. Everything you could hope for from aliens, really. Okay, the thing with multiple universes was weird. But some of them had magic.

When Karalandra was five, she had wanted to be a wizard when she grew up. By fourteen, that desire had matured into wanting to be a scientist. With galactic contact, she discovered, she had the option to do both. An IQ test and a thorough background check got her into an introductory wizarding program instead of her last two years of high school; her performance there got her a scholarship to study artifact development. She churned out magic items and searched for ways to do it better. At one point her working group discovered a way to reduce the time to make a ring of teleport by three percent, and they all walked on air for a week. 

Karalandra even found time to date a coworker. Ju was a kind, intelligent woman with soft blue fur, a keen eye for spell scrolls, and an incorrigible love of puns, and together they knew nothing could stop them.

Then, on one of the young couple's rare vacations, Ju died in a waterskiing accident.  
A research wizard's salary, redirected from mostly donations to almost entirely savings, could pay for a resurrection faster than a lot of people could have managed. But it didn't do anything about the too-vivid memories, or the deeper understanding of just how important it was that resurrections get cheaper. After two weeks of near-constant snuggles and mutual reassurance, Ju dove back into research and Karalandra looked up the application to become a magic rock. Three years of decently high-trust work with a spotless record, plus mind-reading, got her through the background check. Remembered agony got her through the emotion screen. Now her life was audiobooks or Ju's voice chat in one ear and the soul-gem-cleaning song in the other, demon co-workers and an endless succession of basement dwellers. The thrill of seeing the dead wake at her call never did wear off.

* * *

One bright morning, Karalandra and Ju were joking over pancakes, enjoying some face to face time before leaving for their synchronized twelve-hour shifts. 

"Karalandra Halperin?" said the grim-faced teleporter.

Karalandra's mind whirled. What horrible emergency needed a resurrection rock right now and not in half an hour? "That's me, what do you need?"

"You are under arrest for the murder of Suzanna Tekri. Please come with me."

Ju recovered her voice first. "Kara never killed anybody! You're crazy."

"What. I, what, who in the void is Suzanna Tekri?"

"I don't know, ma'am," said the uniformed elf, "just come with me, and if you're innocent I'm sure it'll get sorted out."

"Y-yeah. Alright. Um, Ju, can you tell my shift lead I had an emergency and give my parents the full story?"

"Of course. You come home soon now, you hear?"

"I'll do my best. Love you forever."

"Love you forever."

And off they went.

The room Karalandra was brought to looked like any of a million plain yet comfortable hotel rooms anywhere in the multiverse. She didn't check whether the door was locked; even if she could wander the prison, she didn't want to face a building full of people who would think she was a killer. Instead she alternated between looking up the rights of the accused, and staring blankly into space. 

How, Karalandra wondered, could anybody have gotten the impression that she had killed someone? For any lesser crime, she would be wondering if she had done it and somehow blanked it out of her memory, but she couldn't forget a murder. Maybe she had botched a resurrection, and they thought she had done it on purpose? But she had never heard of anybody botching a resurrection, at least not in a way that looked like murder and not "accidentally skipped one because they were spaced funny and had to double back". But she hadn't heard of people getting arrested totally at random, either, and the officer had said her name. So what was going on?

She noticed herself feeling awful, remembered her safety briefing and played the soul-gem-cleaning song. It helped, but only a little; happiness was more the opposite of despair than the opposite of anxiety.

Eventually, a staff member interrupted her fretting to escort her to her preliminary hearing. The judge asked if she understood her rights; she said she did, and that the prison conditions were fine. The judge asked if she understood the charges against her; she said she understood what they were but not on what evidence. The judge said she'd get to look over the evidence with her lawyer, and made introductions. Her name turned out to be Jennifer Walters ("call me Jennifer"), and she took a still-shaky Karalandra back to her room and pulled up the case file.

"You know this is all confidential, right? If anyone tries to read this, or tries to get you to let them read it, except you and me, tell me and they'll be in trouble eight ways from Sunday."

"Yeah, okay." 

She pulled up Exhibit A. It was a photo of a woman, dead, stabbed in the eye. The "botched resurrection" hypothesis went out the window; her breakfast (was that really only a few hours ago?) almost went on the floor. 

"That's--the victim?"

"Yes," said Jennifer. "Suzanna Tekri, age 47, resident of Cube. Found dead on the roof of her apartment two days ago."

"I don't know any Suzannas. I've never even been to Cube, and I've certainly never killed anybody."

"Will you be willing to say that again under a truth effect?" There was a skeptical note in the lawyer's voice, for all she was trying to hide it.

"Yes. Yes I will. I've got nothing to hide, this is all some kind of mistake, or, or a frame-up or something."

"Okay. Let's review the rest of the evidence, then discuss your case."

Exhibit B was less disturbing but more confusing: it was a formal statement by the forensics demon on the case, Arkent, saying he had recreated the moment of Suzanna Tekri's death and identified the woman standing over the body as Karalandra Halperin.

"Wait, I know that guy!"

"Arkent?"

"Yeah, we do shifts together sometimes. I'm a Mir magical girl, I do resurrections. I guess Arkent does forensics between batches of basement dwellers. But why would he frame me? We weren't friends or anything, but we like each other okay, or I thought we did."

"I can call him up as a witness, and the prosecutor probably will too. Either he'll agree to testify, and the other lawyer and I between us will figure out what happened, or he won't agree to it and you'll look more credible, assuming the truth effect confirms what you've told me."

"How does that work, exactly? It's not going to make me say unrelated stuff, is it? I said I have nothing to hide, and I meant it, but people have ever told me things in confidence."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. That's only on overdramatized TV. It just indicates whether anything someone says is true or a lie. But you can't get around it with technical truths; the prosecutors know all the tricks." 

"Okay, that won't be a problem . . . " Karalandra shuddered. "I just had a horrible thought. You can't tell the prosecutor anything I tell you here, right?"

"Right. Can't, won't, and don't want to."

"Then . . . what if I did do it, and then somebody altered my memory to believe I hadn't? I still can't think of a reason why I would, but maybe I've forgotten that too."

Jennifer rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "It doesn't seem likely, but it would explain the forensics. Tell you what, we'll check your alibi, and if it's something where the memory could be fake, I'll have the trial delayed a day for "medical reasons" and call in a subtle artist or a psion who can check you for tampering."

"And if it does turn out I did it?"

"Then at least you'll know. And we can decide then whether to try to get you off, or if it would be better for you to plead guilty and try for a lighter sentence."

"Yeah," said Karalandra shakily. "And I guess the alternative is that maybe it comes out at trial anyway, or maybe it doesn't and I spend the rest of my life wondering if I'm a murderer. Yeah, let's do it."

"First things first, do you have any gaps in your memory of the past few days?"

"Sort of? I don't remember sleeping, I don't remember every single thing I've done. But I remember the general idea. Work, sleep, hanging out at home, went to square dancing on Monday . . . I don't think I have any gaps big enough to fit a murder in. When exactly did Suzanna die?"

Jennifer poked around in the case file. "What time zone are you in . . . looks like 11 AM on the nineteenth, by your world's time."

"Then I was definitely at work. And I couldn't have been gone for part of the shift, we finished right on schedule."

Jennifer pulled out an earwire. "Just to be sure, do you mind if I call your shift lead?"

"Go right ahead. His name's Cameron Turpent."

"Alright. Hello, Cameron Turpent? This is Jennifer Walters, I'm a lawyer. No, nothing like that, just one or two questions. First of all, did everybody on your shift show up for work on the nineteenth? Or was anybody sick, on vacation, left early, came in late . . . ? Alright, and was anybody acting at all out of the ordinary? No? Okay, thanks so much for your time." She turned back to Karalandra. "Unless his memory has been tampered with too, you were at work just like you said."

"That's good. Two of us being mind-whammied is even more unlikely than one."

"And only another magical girl with the same power could have impersonated you, and if we're reaching that far afield for hypotheses then I think we can rule this out. I can still get you that subtle artist if you really want, but I suspect the answer is something much simpler. If only I knew what."

"Could someone have impersonated me while doing the murder? No, demons can search by people's identities, a disguise wouldn't have worked. Same thing with alts, and anyway I don't have any. Not on any earths and with my same name, at any rate."

"Then I think what we should do, Karalandra, is go to trial tomorrow, and have you say all this again under the truth effect, and have the forensics guy do likewise, and if after that it's still your word against his with you both telling the truth, we'll bring in a mind-reader. Or rather, I'll argue that you should be let off on insufficient evidence, and the prosecutor will have the same idea you did and bring in a mind-reader. Though if that happens it's possible we'll need to recess for a few days while we wait for one to be free."

"Gosh, I hope not, I've already missed one day of work and I'll be missing at least part of tomorrow too."

"Oh, if it goes past tomorrow I can get you released until the court convenes again, nobody wants a resurrectionist missing work because the government can't solve a mystery. Might need to wear a tracker that will alert if you go anywhere other than your house or your work, since the crime is so serious, but it's not like there's anywhere you could run and I can make a good case that you won't."

"Thanks. I hope we don't need it, I just want this over with."

"I hope so too. If there's nothing else, I can head out and make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. I'll meet you here at eight AM, alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks again. See you tomorrow."

"Just doing my job. See you!" And out she went, leaving Karalandra alone with her thoughts again, and not much less confused ones than before. She ventured out of her room long enough to choke down some dinner, not having been able to contemplate lunch. That night Karalandra discovered that sleeping the sleep of the innocent and sleeping the sleep of the almost certainly innocent were two very different things.

Morning came after not nearly enough sleep; breakfast was an ordeal and also strawberries. A few more loops of magically enforced cheerfulness got her ready to go by eight, looking put together except for the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes. Jennifer gave her a sympathetic look, but didn't comment, and briskly set off to the shuttle to the courthouse.  
The courtroom was a different one but the judge was the same, calm and dignified and only unintentionally frightening. Arkent was also there, seated off to one side and unwilling to meet Karalandra's eyes. "Karalandra Halperin, you are brought among this court on the charge of murder. Would you like to confess and present mitigating circumstances, or claim innocence and present a defense?"

"I'll be presenting a defense."

"I see here that your lawyer says you're willing to testify under a truth effect; is that the case?"

"Yes."

"Very well; please step up here." Once Karalandra was in position, the judge fiddled with something under her desk. "The truth effect is now operative. You may verify it if you like before questioning starts."

"Thank you." Karalandra pondered statements for a moment, then said "I have one brother. I have one sister. I like bagels."

"The first one is true and the other two are false." 

Karalandra liked bagels only as an occasional thing with a lot of very specific toppings, so that made sense. "Okay. Um, I'm ready to testify now?"

Jennifer was apparently going to go first. "Alright, Karalandra. Can you describe in your own words what you did on the nineteenth of May this year?"

"I woke up at six, ate breakfast with my girlfriend, walked to the shuttle stop and took the shuttle to the resurrection facility where I work. I resurrected people for twelve hours, seven to seven, then I went home via the same shuttle. I hosted my chess club until nine and then the chess people went home but I stayed at my house until I went to sleep."

"Did you kill Suzanna Tekri?"

"No."

The judge raised a startled eyebrow.

"Have you, to the best of your knowledge, ever met Suzanna Tekri?"

"I can't name everyone I've met, but I have no recollection of doing so, no."

"Have you ever been to Cube?"

"I have not."

"Your honor, I relinquish the witness," Jennifer concluded somewhat smugly.

The judge was by this point frowning confusedly. The prosecutor, who had started out looking bored, was looking quite similar when he stepped up to ask his own questions.

"Do you have any known alts?"

"No."

"Have you ever forked?"

"No."

"Hmmm . . . How closely observed are you while at work?"

"I'm pretty much always in line of sight of someone but they aren't necessarily looking at me."

"Can you teleport?"

"I can wizardry-teleport but not the other kind."

"So you could in fact have teleported to Cube, killed Ms. Tekri, and teleported back without anyone noticing?"

"I don't know if I could have done that because I in fact didn't."

The prosecutor paced back and forth a few times. "Would you be willing to answer a few more questions after the next witness?"

"Um, yes."

"In that case," the prosecutor said as he turned to face the judge, "I have no further questions at this time. I'd like to call my own first witness, Arkent."

Arkent traded places with Karalandra, looking deeply uncertain, and also agreed to the truth effect. Then the prosecutor started asking questions again.

"Please describe in your own words what you did on the nineteenth of May."

Arkent had clearly testified in court before; he spoke in the voice of someone reciting a new variation on an old theme. "I spent the morning in Hell, and was summoned at 3 PM for a forensics job. I was asked to reconstruct the circumstances of the death of Suzanna Tekri of Cube. I did so. The resulting scene included replicas of Ms. Tekri's corpse, and of another woman standing over the body, holding a bloody knife. I identified the other woman as Karalandra Halperin of Mir. I was then asked to produce and identify a replica of Ms. Halperin's surroundings at the time, for the arresting officer. I did so. Then I was dismissed."

"Could your search for the killer's surroundings have mistakenly produced the surroundings of an alt or a person of a similar appearance?" asked the prosecutor, clearly already knowing the answer.

"No. I searched for Ms. Halperin in particular; demon powers can distinguish between alts."

"Just to make certain, please conjure all alts of Ms. Halperin, quantifying over all known worlds, at one-tenth scale."

A moment's pause, then, "I have done so, and received a null result."

"Stipulating that this is not your job, do you have any idea how you and Ms. Halperin could have given such seemingly contradictory testimony, both truthfully?'

"I do not. In fact I am equally confused by the thought that she could have committed the murder and the thought that she didn't. If I may venture into questions of character, I must say I would never have thought Karalandra capable of murder."

"Hrm. I was hoping you had something; I'm out of ideas. I relinquish the witness, and if my opposing counsel doesn't mind I'd like to briefly confer with her in private."

"Actually," broke in Jennifer, "I have a couple of questions for this witness first." She had what was unmistakably a twinkle in her eye as she spoke, and Karalandra's heart leapt. Could her lawyer have unraveled the mystery?

"Certainly, certainly," said the prosecutor. "Anything that might get to the bottom of this." The judge nodded and Jennifer took center stage.

"Arkent," she began, "When you recreated the murder scene, did you recognize the killer?"  
"Yes, I recognized Karalandra from our work together."

"And when you searched her surroundings for the arresting officer, what exactly was the set of parameters you specified in your conjuration?"

"Current surroundings of Karalandra Halperin, at 1/10 scale, with all water replaced by glass."  
"How many total conjurations did you perform in the course of your investigation?" Jennifer had the tone of a woman about to close a trap.

"Two," said Arkent, suspicion dawning on his face and starting to turn into embarrassment. "One to reconstruct the murder scene and one for the arresting officer."

"Then," asserted Jennifer, "you did not verify by conjuration that the woman standing over the body was in fact Ms. Halperin, rather than another individual with a similar appearance?"  
"I did not," said Arkent to the courtroom linoleum.

"Does forensic procedure not specify that all identifications of persons are to be confirmed by conjuration to screen out alts and doppelgangers?"

"Yes," mumbled Arkent, at the same moment the prosecutor called "I must protest, Ms. Walters; you're harassing the witness!"

"Your opponent is quite right, Ms. Walters; whether what the witness did was in violation of procedure is not relevant to your client's innocence or guilt."

"My apologies. Arkent, can you please recreate the murder scene again, same parameters as last time?"

Arkent produced a scale model--as he had described, a miniature woman identical to Karalandra was standing red-handed over the miniature corpse from the photographs.  
"This is the murder scene as you requested," Arkent recited for the truth effect.

"Now, please produce, with the same parameters, a model of the surroundings of that person," Jennifer requested with a gesture at the miniature murderess.

Arkent produced another scale model, this one of a bar Karalandra didn't recognize--but the important thing was that it wasn't the courtroom. Karalandra started breathing normally for what felt like the first time since her arrest.

"This concludes my case; I request that my client be ruled innocent."

"And I conclude my case as well, and concur. Let's wrap this up and get to the real arrest," declared the prosecutor.

"You're free to go," said the judge, smiling at Karalandra, "but I suspect your lawyer wants a word with you." 

"That is correct," declared Jennifer, looking triumphant but far from satisfied. "I quite understand if you want to go home immediately, but perhaps you could give me your email address?"  
"Absolutely," said Karalandra. "Both to the email address and the going home. I need to tell Ju what happened and then I can still make half my shift today."

* * *

Karalandra's day off was Thursday, and that was the day she scheduled another meeting with Jennifer Walters. They met in a little cafe near a shuttle stop, a far cry from the institutional settings in which they had previously seen each other. Karalandra had barely acquired a piece of pumpkin bread and dropped into her seat when Jennifer got down to business.

"I want to represent you in a suit against the government."

"What? Sue the government, why?"

"Because that forensics screw-up was absolutely against procedure. You can get them on wrongful imprisonment and emotional distress, plus I want punitive damages for the delayed resurrections."

"We did get caught up on that, we were back on schedule within forty-eight hours."

"That's not the point. The point is, thanks to their sloppiness, you were imprisoned and the killer was running around free."

"Oh yikes, that is a point. They've got her now, right?"

"Yup. Tried, convicted, and sentenced as of yesterday. It was open and shut once they got the right woman."

"Well that's good. And I guess I can see suing them, because, if nobody does anything about mistakes, people might make more mistakes."

"Exactly. Got to keep the government we work for on their toes, remind them that they can't get slapdash with people's lives and freedoms. And don't worry about getting your demon friend in trouble, he'll just have to redo some training classes before he's cleared to do investigations again and maybe fill out extra paperwork on any he does. The actual money will come out of the government's purse."

"I actually donate most of my extra money to government projects . . . if we go through with this, and if we get any money, I guess I should find a private charity to give it to. Or I could give it to the murder victim, she's probably been resurrected by now."

"Yes," said Jennifer, eyes twinkling again. "But before you commit to giving her the money, you should know she's going to be your co-complainant."

* * *

Three weeks later, on yet another planet somewhere in the multiverse, yet another couple were eating breakfast. 

"Anything interesting on the news, Jim?"

"Not really, Nev, not really. Membership vote on that planet with the koala people is still going . . . Someone sued the consortium over a botched criminal case and won a chunk of change . . . Oh, here's something, they found a cure for Vogt-Koyanagi-Harada syndrome."

"The heck is that?"

"It's a disease puppies can get. Only like one in fifty thousand, but hey, the fewer sick dogs the better."

"Now there's some good news. Pass the biscuits?"


End file.
